THE ALMOST SORTA CAR EXPLOSION

in a now-defunct personal blogAug. 6, 2006

About 40 minutes from home, I heard tapping.

It reminded me of a freezing winter night more than a year ago when my car made similar noises on the way back home from the library. Just as I reached my neighborhood, the noises got louder. I slowed down to a crawl, watched the gauge reach red and parked on the driveway just before the car sputtered and died. Smoke crept out from beneath the hood, and I knew my car had exhausted its last fumes. I later learned I hadn’t refilled the oil (It was very much like Kristin’s “Dunzo!” moment on Laguna Beach. Sorry, I couldn’t resist), but luckily it was revived days later.

This time, however, I knew the oil had been added and the coolant refilled. It had been in the shop less than a month before to get the air conditioner fixed. As I sped down 64 East driving 80 miles per hour with the air conditioner on blast, I heard the tapping over Christina Aguilera’s vocal acrobatics.

I turned off the air conditioner, rolled down the windows, slowed down to 65, switched over to the right lane and turned on my hazards. Believe me, it pained me to watch cars pass me by.

I called home.

“My car’s making weird noises,” I told my mom.

“But it’s still moving right?” she said.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, it’s fine. We’ll look at it when you get here.”

A bunch of irrelevant questions later, she finally handed my dad the phone.

“Noises?” he said. “It’s still moving right?”

Yes, yes.

“Oh, it’s fine. Just slow down.”

Can I still leave the air conditioner on?

Pause.

“Yes.”

I left it off.

The conversation left me little comfort since the car continued to struggle. I hoped it would survive the drive home. My car has broken down before or refused to start, but never on the highway.

Ten minutes later and maybe a minute into Christina’s “I got troubles,” my car jolted. A cloud of smoke engulfed my windshield. I pulled over to the shoulder, exactly on mile marker 162.4.

I jumped out of the car and dialed home again.

“I pulled over,” I told my dad. "I need a tow truck. The car’s smoking, but I’m fine and – Sparks! There are sparks under the car!”

Sparks?! my dad said. “RUN! RUN! GET OUT OF THERE!”

I sprinted along the highway with images of exploding cars and balls of fire running through my head. My dad, meanwhile, was yelling gibberish, asking if I was running and whether the car was on fire.

I tuned him out. I just wanted to get away.

Then I had a disturbing thought.

My laptop was in the car.

* * *

It’s funny the things you think about when you think you’re in danger. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, but I wondered if car explosions looked like how they’re portrayed in movies. How people hurtle through the air with a ball of fire behind them. And somehow they miraculously survive unscathed.

Then I thought about my laptop and all the precious files I’ve amassed in its hard drive. I wanted to fetch Gizmo(1). I was glad Halle(2) wasn’t in the car with me. If she was, I would’ve run down the highway with her in my arms. Just imagine how crazy that would’ve looked.

I looked crazy enough running by myself.

Two motorists pulled over to check on me. A woman stepped out from a van and asked if I was OK. I told her about the smoke and the sparks.

Sparks?! I’ll call the fire department, she said.

Meanwhile, my dad was still on the phone asking 20 questions and totally not helping. Is the car still smoking? Where are you? Who are you talking to? What’s going on?

“Daddy, they want to know if we have a tow truck to call,” I told him.

Yes, we do, my dad said. But I think I’ll drive over there. I just don’t have a car right now. I have to wait for someone to get back. Allan has the Accord. Are you going the same place he is? Maybe you can call him and he can pick you up and…

“Yes, we do,” I told the lady. I wanted to scream.

She told me the fire department was coming and asked if I was going to be alright by myself. The other motorist got in his car and left.

“I’ll be fine.” I thought about my almost-dead phone. “Thank you so much.”

* * *

I was a hundred or so feet away from my car, eyeing it suspiciously, when a sheriff pulled up behind it. He started inspecting it, and I reluctantly walked toward him. What if it explodes in his face? I thought.

It was no longer smoking, and I didn’t see any sparks. I asked him if it was OK to stand next to it. He assured me it was and popped the hood. There was a crack in the radiator. All of the antifreeze and oil splattered on the sidewalk.

The sheriff told me he had another broken-down vehicle on the highway to look at.

“Are you going to be OK by yourself?”

The eternal question.

Yes.

“Well, call me if anyone sketchy pulls over,” he said. “That’s happened before. And don’t be afraid to run into the woods.”

He motioned to the mess of trees and grass behind me. It looked like fugitive heaven.

“OK,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

I asked if he could call the fire department to tell them not to come anymore. He said he would.

* * *

I almost beat my highest score on “Bejeweled” (Palm-pilot version) when the fire truck came.

The sheriff didn’t call them after all.

Firefighters stepped out and walked to my car. I don't think I've seen them in their gear so close before. They looked heroic.

“Hi,” I said. “It had sparks earlier, but it’s fine now. I told the sheriff to call you and…”

But they weren’t listening. They hovered over the hood. One wiped his index finger on the ground.

“It’s oil!” he said.

When they realized there was no fire to extinguish, they asked if I’d be OK by myself.

Sure thing, I said. “Thank you so much.”

They unbuttoned their jackets and boarded the fire truck. Less than five minutes after they got there, they were gone.

* * *

In the midst of it all, my dad called me every 10 minutes to see if I was OK. He thinks I’m completely helpless and still 12. One time he asked if the car was still smoking. When I told him no, he asked if I could go in the car and lock myself in there.

“No,” I told him. “It’s hot. I don’t want to die.”

About one hour after the whole fiasco began, my dad finally came. He and a family friend transferred some of my stuff to the van. It just so happened that I decided to bring half of my things back home this weekend.

We left a note for the tow truck and left.

* * *

I had showered in the morning but felt super dirty after standing in the highway for a while. I got home around 6 p.m. (about three hours after the initial tapping) and got ready to celebrate a birthday and a housewarming.

In the shower, I found a tick on my leg.

How fitting. Right after Humpback Rocks, I began getting bites on my legs, and I (wrongly) suspected one of them was a tick bite. Just before going to sleep Friday, I talked to Alex about how much I hated ticks and how I washed my sheets to kill whatever I brought home from the hike.

How fitting a tick crawled up my leg while I stood in the grass waiting for my dad.

It latched onto my leg despite the water and soap. I couldn’t even feel it. Luckily I knew what to do. Last month I wrote a story(3) about ticks for the newspaper (Journalism saves lives!).

With tweezers, I extracted it from my leg and flushed it down the toilet. I watched it sink and flail in the water. It takes more than 24 hours of continuous feeding for the tick to transmit Lyme disease to the host. It had been on my leg less than four.

I spent the next few hours scrutinizing every inch of my body and talking to my parents. I got out of the house a bit too late for happy hour, but I was ready to drink.

I’d had a crazy day.

FOOTNOTES (1) Gizmo was a stuffed replica of the furry gremlin of "Gremlins" fame.(2) Halle is a gray and white cat with a tendency to run away from strangers, even her owner. Her full name is Halle Nermal Berry Bolipata. Some say she bears a striking resemblance to Catwoman, as portrayed by actress Halle Berry in 2004.(3) That story ended up winning the 2007 Excellence in Veterinary Reporting Award, given by the Virginia Veterinary Medical Association. Not only do I have a shiny plaque to show for it, I am also Lyme disease-free.